I'm cleaning again. Removing clutter and crap that no longer serves me. Removing energy that vibrates at a lesser frequency than which I'm currently spinning. Removing blockages to better things and better opportunities. Lightening my load so I can live with more light, more peace, more joy.

This is scary business. It requires a certain amount of courage. Because purging crap from one's physical surroundings creates a contract with the Universe that one's corresponding inner crap will be purged as well. As without, so within.

{If the load at the curb is huge, one's inner expulsion will be equal in size. Best to start with a modest purge when first entertaining this notion. Clean out one room. Then stock up on Kleenex. Adequate health insurance is a must if purging an entire home.}

As per my contract, a wave of sorrow has flooded my heart since finishing the task at the curb. Sorrow about the man who still hasn't shown up. The man with the soft eyes. The man who loves nature and art and makes room for God in his daily round.

As per my contract, I'm letting the sorrow leak out. I'm letting myself be purged and cleansed and emptied of lesser vibrations, of thoughts of self-doubt, of the old wooden door across my heart that no longer serves me.